


love comes in at the eye

by j_quadrifrons



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: M/M, disgusting honestly, illegal soft lonely eyes, just outrageous fluff, nostalgia and reminiscing, the impossible romance of the ceaseless watcher and the forsaken
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-04 04:23:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20464952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_quadrifrons/pseuds/j_quadrifrons
Summary: Wine comes in at the mouthAnd love comes in at the eye;That’s all we shall know for truthBefore we grow old and die.I lift the glass to my mouth,I look at you, and I sigh.--William Butler Yeats





	love comes in at the eye

It’s six months since their latest wedding, four hours since Peter returned from another interminable voyage, about ten minutes since exhaustion finally overwhelmed enthusiasm and they collapsed, sweaty and at least temporarily sated, in Elias’s outrageously large bed. (Elias pretends to be annoyed when Peter calls it outrageous, but it’s true. It’s much too large a bed for a man whose husband spends more time away than at home.) Peter is sprawled on his stomach, face buried in a pillow; Elias reclines next to him on a pile made of the rest of them, feeling very pleased with himself.

The scratches down Peter’s back are already fading, an unfortunate consequence of their more-than-human resilience; he does look so lovely with them. The split lip and scraped knuckles will take longer to heal but if Peter is going to shove Elias up against the rough stone wall outside the Institute’s side entrance he deserves everything he gets.

Elias picks up Peter’s hand and raises it to his lips, kissing each knuckle in turn, swiping his tongue across the one that’s split to savor the taste of blood.

Peter makes an amused rumbling noise deep in his chest. “What’s got you so affectionate today?” He turns his head so he’s looking at Elias, but he makes no move toward rising from his boneless sprawl.

“You say that as if it’s unheard of for me to be affectionate,” Elias says, adopting an affronted tone, before he turns over Peter’s hand and drops a kiss in his palm. Peter’s fingers curl gently against his jaw, almost a caress. Elias does not quite lean into it, but he doesn’t let go, either.

“It’s not exactly usual,” Peter murmurs. His voice is ragged, and unlike Elias’s it’s more from emotion than from hard use. Elias very carefully does not meet his eyes. Emotions and Beholding together are too much for Peter most days, and Elias would like to keep him around for a while. Instead he twines long, elegant fingers together with Peter’s larger, rougher ones and kisses the inside of Peter’s wrist, relishing the shudder it draws from him. “Not that I’m complaining, mind,” Peter adds thoughtfully.

Elias sinks down into the pillows and lets his eyes drift closed, keeping Peter’s hand in his and tucked against his chest, leaving him enough space for Peter to be comfortable while refusing to let go. It’s a delicate balance between the two of them, between Elias’s hunger to Know and Peter’s inherent resistance to connection; there’s a reason they’ve divorced so many times. But then again, there are reasons they’ve married again so many times, too.

He may not be Watching but he can feel Peter’s eyes on him in return; it feels like warmth, like being protected and cared for. In response he doesn’t react at all, leaving the few inches between them to grow into a vast gulf crossed only by Peter’s gaze and his hand held gently on Elias’s chest. It’s very nearly perfect.

“I’ve been thinking about the night we met,” Peter says. His thumb strokes the side of Elias’s hand, a slow, steady motion. He sounds fond, though reminiscence is an unusual affection from him. “I truly thought you were going to duel Nathaniel in the middle of the party.”

“If you could call a gathering of Lukases a party,” Elias says reflexively, but he doesn’t bother trying to stop the smile that quirks his lips. “I would have, too,” he adds. “He knew what I was when he invited me and yet he decided to be terribly offended by my questions. If anyone was picking a fight it was him.” Which is very nearly true; what Nathaniel Lukas had been most offended by was Elias’s determined attempts to get the youngest Lukas brother alone somewhere. It had taken him longer than expected, but he’d managed in the end.

Peter shifts on the bed, and his hand tugs at Elias’s where they’re locked together but he’s not pulling away. He leans in and kisses Elias softly, so softly. There’s a yearning in it that usually precedes Peter’s disappearance and Elias fights himself not to hold on as tightly as he can. “I fell in love with you that night,” Peter whispers against his lips before kissing him again. Elias can’t resist arching up into it, deepening the kiss. He always does this, pushes too hard just when he should pull away if he really wants Peter to stay, but he’s always been weak for affection withheld. He opens his eyes before the kiss ends, and when Peter pulls away he smiles to see Elias already watching him. Elias is sure Peter can feel the spasm of his heart in his chest where their hands are pressed against it.

“You didn’t speak to me for another six months,” Elias says, his voice almost as dry as his mouth has gone. It isn’t quite an accusation.

“Of course not.” Peter’s eyes are twinkling and he’s wearing that smug look Elias has long regretted allowing him to pick up. “You were longing so beautifully. And so was I,” he adds with a tilt of his head as his gaze grows distant.

Elias remembers those days; he wouldn’t have called it _longing_. _Frustration_, maybe. He’s never done well with uncertainty. Since then, though, there has been plenty of longing, enough that even he is able to savor it sometimes. It goes against the grain to feed any god but his own, but Peter makes plenty of sacrifices for the sake of - this. Them. It’s the least Elias can do. “You didn’t seem to suffer for it,” he grumbles anyway.

Peter laughs silently, his breath warm on Elias’s skin, and kisses him once more on the corner of his mouth. Then he settles back down, just fractionally closer than before, perhaps. Elias loosens his grip on Peter’s hand, but Peter squeezes back and leaves it there, the two of them tangled together at this one point of contact. If Peter has anything else to say, Elias misses it as he tumbles into sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Please come yell about TMA with me, I have too many feelings  
[@j_quadrifrons](https://twitter.com/j_quadrifrons), [backofthebookshelf](https://backofthebookshelf.tumblr.com)


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